A Tailor for Every Vampire
by PrincessGoatse
Summary: Do you ever wonder where vampires get their threads? This is a series of short stories about our favorite vamps and their adventures in fabric land.
1. Chapter 1

A Tailor for Every Vampire

AN: I do not own Black Blood Brothers.

_Oh, wonderful. _thought Jirou Mochizuki as he looked down at the enormous jagged tear in his favourite (Well, okay his only) coat.

Well that was unfortunate, he'd have to find someone to take care of this.

He asked Mimiko in that morning before she left for work, and she assured him that she could find a good tailor to assist him.

The ring at the door came at around seven O' Clock, coinciding with sundown.

Jirou yawned, stretching as he walked to the door.

Opening it with a welcoming smile, he saw a young man standing there, looking ever so slightly nervous, with a kit presumably containing the tools of his trade at his side.

"Hello, you must be the tailor that Ms. Katsuragi called, am I correct?"

The man standing outside the door stood up a little straighter and answered in a pleasant sounding voice.

"Yes, yes I am! I hear that you have something in need of fixing?"

"Ah, indeed. If you would please come in."

Jirou stepped to one side to allow the tailor entrance into the apartment.

"It's just in here." Said Jirou, leading the man into the living room.

"Please, have a seat. I'll just be a moment." Said Jirou as he exited the room to retrieve the damaged item.

"So you see," He said as he came back into the room, holding up the garment for the tailor to see,

"The tear is right along here. Is it within your abilities to repair it? It does, after all, hold a certain amount of sentimental value for me."

The younger man took the coat and turned it over in his hands, examining the material, the flow of the fabric, and the tear itself.

Wow.

Now this was one hell of a hopeless case.

This wouldn't even be worth salvaging.

Ugh, and whoever designed this monstrosity needed to be hunted down and stabbed with a thousand sewing needles until they'd learned their lesson.

"I'm so… Sorry, sir. But this is not reparable. " Said the man, walking to the incinerator and throwing the garment in.

"It really would be better to just invest in something snazzier. I myself could design it for you. We could fix something up to suit your body perf-"

He stopped speaking abruptly as he turned around to see the man whose coat he'd just sent onto the flames.

His eyes burned with a fury unlike any the tailor had ever seen before.

Oh shit.

He'd gotten on the wrong side of the wrong person this time.

"You."

The simple word made the man cringe.

Jirou's eyes burned brightly, and he raised a hand.

"You."

He punctuated the word by sending the tailor into the nearest wall. Hitting it with a loud '_thud'_

"Will."

'_thud_

"Remake."

'_thud'_

"That."

'_thud'_

"Coat."

'_thud'_

"Precisely the way it was. Or you _will_ face the consequences."

Mimiko Katsuragi was walking home with a smile on her face. Today'd been a good day.

Now, she'd just go home, cook some dinner…

She was still smiling as she turned her key in the door and stepped inside.

"Hey, you guys, I'm home!"

She walked into her living room and come to an abrupt halt.

"JIROU! WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED HERE?"

"Kotarou had an accident." Came the reply from the man sitting in the armchair, flipping through a book, and looking for all the world the most innocent person in the world.

"And why is the tailor still here? He should've been gone hours ago!"

"He's repairing some… Mistakes that he made." He flipped a page.

"You- I just- What is that crack in the wall- Just- WHY-"

She sighed, resigned.

"Will you be staying for dinner?" She directed the question at the tailor sitting at the sewing machine, bent over in concentration.

"No. He will not be eating with us." Jirou flipped another page in his book.

Mimiko just blinked and walked to the kitchen to prepare dinner.

Oh well.

It could've been worse.

This fan fiction is a collaboration with bloodredfox, I hope you enjoyed it!


	2. Chapter Two: Spike and Drusilla

Chapter Two: Dru and Spike

"Spike, I want a corset like this one." Drusilla indicated the dress that the doll she held was swathed in. A black dress, tight at the neck, keeping close to the body all the way down the bodice before fluffing out at the skirt, and ah, the corset. A bright red corset covered in black embroidery, and lined with matching black lace along the top and bottom.

Pretty enough, he supposed.

"Of course, anything for you, pet." Spike kissed her brow, softly promising she'd be wearing it by the very next evening.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

The tailor was working late into the night in his shabby little shop on main street, sweat beading his brow.

The papers littering his desk screamed the reason for his distress, and the words became more and more worrisome each time he reread the familiar sentences. He was almost entirely certain he could recite them from memory.

…_Payment overdue…_

…_Eviction_ …

…_Final Notice…_

Just not enough work for a tailor these days… The man shook the troubling thoughts from his head. It wouldn't do to linger on such things when there was work to be done, and if he finished this commission on time, he might just have enough to save his poor shop. Yes, just about enough. Just needed to keep working…

The pale blue fabric moved swiftly under his hands, the sewing machine devouring it hungrily and spitting it out again, bearing the marks of its teeth.

He started when he heard the bell above the door ringing, and glanced to the clock hanging on the wall incredulously. Who on Earth would possibly be coming in at this time of night?

He walked to the front of the shop, stretching as he went. These late nights would be the death of him, he swore.

"I'm sorry, sir, we're closed. If you'll come back in the morning, I'm sure I could help you then." Said the tailor as pleasantly as he could, as exhausted as he was.

"Oh, I'm afraid I won't be available then." Came the reply from the blond.

A cruel smile came to the stranger's face, and the tailor reached behind the counter for the gun that he hid behind the counter for such occasions when the stranger ran up to him and knocked him clean out.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Foggy indistinct sounds penetrated his consciousness, rousing him slowly.

"But when do I get to play with him?"

"Soon, pet. He won't do you very much good if he's still sleeping though, will he?"

And then… Some sort of odd whimpering noise.

Was there a dog here?

A groan escaped him before he could stop it, grabbing the attention of his abductors.

"Oh, oh look, Spike, he's awake. Can I play with him now?" Opening one eye slightly, the tailor saw that the voice belonged to a lovely young woman. She couldn't have been older than twenty five at the most, with the most gorgeous dark hair running down her back.

The tailor was struggling to right himself to speak to her when a foot came down on one of his legs, applying force and snapping it cleanly in two.

The tailor screamed out in pure agony at the searing pain in his leg, writhing on the ground, and gripping it to him.

Sobs wracked his frame as a hand gripped his chin and turned it firmly to look at its owner.

The tailor forced his eyes open to look at the assailant, seeing the blond man from his shop.

"You-" He choked out before another wave of pain hit him.

"Yes, me. Now listen buddy, I've got a favor to ask you. If you do this for me, I let you go. You don't… Well, I can always go for a snack."

The blond threw a doll on the tailor's chest. Funny little doll. And so very old.

"I want you to make the corset on that doll for my Dru." The tailor didn't miss the subtle emphasis on the word "Mine".

Do you understand?

The tailor managed to give a quick nod.

"Good then."

OoOoOoOoOoO

They constructed him a makeshift sort of cast to allow him limited mobility, and set him to work.

He had the man called Spike bring him the things he required from his shop, and began work on the thing.

He finished in record time, and presented it to his captors.

"Oh, it's not right. It's not right, Spike!" Said the girl he'd thought of as so beautiful.

So beautiful, but so ugly on the inside.

And there was that whimpering noise again. Ah, so it came from the girl. What a horrible sound.

"Well, you heard her, pal. Make her a new one." Said Spike.

And so he did. But every time, there was some sort of flaw.

This stitch is out of place.

These pleats are uneven.

This hem is wobbly.

Eventually, the tailor ran out of materials, and he had to ask the man called Spike to go to his shop to get more.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

'_Fine thing, this.' _Thought Spike as he stalked toward town.

'_Really, me going out and fetching and carrying for a bloody tailor. Dru had better love this ruddy thing.'_

Spike broke into the shop for what seemed like the hundredth time, and went back to their little hideout.

"Hey, I've got the… Fabric or whatever." But his statement was met with only silence.

Confusion colored his thoughts as he made his way to the large dining area where they didn't eat.

"Hey, what's going on here, Dru…" He trailed off as he looked around at his surroundings.

The macabre scene in front of him was enough to stun even the great William the Bloody.

Intestines hung from the walls the way you might hang ribbons for a birthday party.

Pictures had been painted in blood on the walls.

Bits and pieces of person lay scattered around the room, and as Spike looked around, he saw Dru sitting on the floor, playing with a heart.

"Dru…" He began, "Is all of this… The tailor?"

"Maybe." Came the slightly apprehensive reply from the girl sitting on the floor.

"Oh, dammit, Dru! Who's going to finish your corset now? Did you even think about that?"

He regretted his words as soon as he said them.

That little whining noise started coming from Dru. Oh god.

He rushed to her side, holding her close.

"Oh, it's alright pet. I'll find someone else to finish it, okay?"

"Mmmhmm."

"Good. Now then," Said Spike, rubbing his hands together, "Do you feel like sharing, or should I go find my own dinner?"


End file.
